Tales From Beta Reader: Hephaestus
by storm-brain
Summary: Hephaestus frowned from his home on Olympus. No one had mentioned his kids, and this was just not fair. Just because they sat in the forge all day didn’t mean he didn’t exist. Sequel to Muse. One-shot, for "de hunter"


Bekendorf wandered away to his forge and sighed. He had not gone on the quest. Oh well- he didn't want to. It was a mad hope someone would have suggested it, and even madder to think he would have gone. Hephaestus never got much of a big name; cripple, food with fire, whatever. No one knew of any other of his sibilings.

He shrugged and began a sword. He needed a new one, because Connor Stoll had broken the last in a chariot race.

Hephaestus frowned from his home on Olympus. No one had mentioned his kids, and this was just not fair. Just because they sat in the forge all day didn't mean he didn't exist.

Ares kids always had a bad name. So what? They deserved it. But no one knew his kids, and no one knew their names.

He needed to rally more attention. He could jump of Olympus again, but that would hurt. He could send one of his kids charging around camp with a torch singing "Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum" but that was more Hermes, and it would create bad feelings towards him and posterity.

He could win a bet against Hermes, but that was never going to happen.

Bekendorf could kick Percy Jackson's butt, but it was normal for Percy to have his butt kicked.

He could get one of his anonymous kids to run for president. _Better than the one they've got._ He reflected, shooting a glace to the son of Ares in office.

All the other gods got the glory. Athena had George Washington, Barack Obama, and was distantly related to George Bush.

Poseidon had Thesues, Percy Jackson,.

Zeus had _tons_ of famous kids.

He had none.

He needed ideas.

Slowly, he wheeled himself out the door of his forge and up to the throne room where he found Zeus.

"Lord Zeus?" He asked as his wheelchair squeeked up to the front of the room. Zeus nodded to him.

"Hephaestus."

"I was wondering what to do to get more attention." The smith god rattled off a list of things denied him, and Zeus pretended to listen.

"I think," Zeus said finally, cutting him off, "You need Beta Reader. The muse."

Hephaestus frowned. "I heard not of a muse named Beta Reader."

"Well, she is newer. Created for fanfictions, you see."

"Fan fictions?" Hephaestus repeated, confused.

"Yes, Fan-fictions. They are stories with the same characters and settings from a book, but are different plots that young authors write. They are posted on . Don't tell me you have never heard of Fan fiction." The smith god shook his head. He had never heard of fan fictions.

He sat later that night, scrolling through the fanfictions. There were none about him, It seemed. Oh wait- the name Bekendorf. No, he was dead in that story. Looking more closely, he saw it.

His kids were cornflakes.

Need a new camper? Hephaestus! Need to kill a camper so the battle will mean something? Hephaestus! No one cared enough to make a connection to him. Just 'someone died from the Hephaestus cabin.'

Two hours later, he had had enough.

He wheeled himself to the museary, where he waited in line. What a bore.

_Why am I doing this again?_ He wondered vaguely. He thought of all the things he could be doing when a soft voice said 'Lord Hephaestus?'

He looked up, and saw the new muse.

She was kind of pretty- she was tall, and her eyes were as black as typed letters. Her Hair was long and black, and her skin was pale. Her dress was covered in letters and computer-y things. There was ink on her fingers.

"You had a problem?" She asked, raising a times-new-roman-twelve-point-type eyebrow.

"Yes… I was wondering if you could… inspire…people to write about me and such? It seems that I am being used as a cornflake."

"A cornflake." She repeated, looking confused.

"You know, by cabin is the kind of cabin where you can add a new camper whenever and kill them whenever. Like cornflakes."

"I see." From what he could tell, she didn't see. "You want more attention paid to you and your children?"

He nodded. That was it.

"Positive attention." He clarified. She nodded, and disappeared.

"Huh." He muttered as he squeaked away. Why had he done that? Did he care? Well, it seemed that he did. He went into his forage and thought no more about the incident, though the muse popped up sometimes in his dreams.


End file.
